


Into a Bar

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F/M, Multi, references to unsafe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A banshee, a werewolf, and a human walk into a bar- no one else walks out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into a Bar

A banshee, a werewolf, and a human walk into a bar- no one else walks out.

It sounded like a bad joke, like a bad romantic comedy, like a bad porno gone wrong. Stiles wasn’t supposed to get with girl he’d been in love with since fourth grade, and Erica wasn’t supposed to get with the boy who never noticed her. Lydia always knew she could have whomever she wanted, and pining didn’t look good on her. Erica and Stiles did though, their bloody fingertips and lips decorating her body.

They were invincible together. They were gods, holding the fragile fate of mere ordinary people in their hands and extinguishing them. Erica had joked once that it was like blowing out a birthday candle. She still made wishes after each kill. They were silly wishes, she already had everything she needed and really wanted.

Lydia was proud of how far her partners have come. A year ago, Stiles would have winced at massacring thirty drunk and unarmed people. Tonight, he swung his metal bat without care, crushing bones and dreams. Erica liked to use her claws, ripping apart two people at once- her favorite was when the victims looked at each other, complete strangers connected in a joint death. Lydia liked to watch more these days. In the beginning, she had done most of the work with Molotov cocktails and a stolen gun. Now though, she relaxed against a wall and soaked in the fear and desperation.

Sometimes it reminded her of that night, so many moons ago when Peter had almost killed her. The memory still ached but she forced herself to draw strength from it. That was the night that made Stiles willing to do anything for her, though she didn’t call upon it until much later. She waited for a third, and newly turned Erica practically fell into her lap trying to find something, anything better than Derek. Revenge was deemed better, and she had never liked Peter.

He was their first kill, his blood cementing their relationship and pushing them into a frenzied mess of lust. Under Lydia’s freshly bathed hands, Stiles and Erica had sex for the first time. The second time was the morning after, but the second time in a killer’s lust, none of them bothered to wash their hands. (It was stupid with a human, Lydia knew. But the idea of stopping to clean up, of removing the dark stains was intolerable. And Stiles hadn’t gotten sick yet.)

Erica was her favorite. She knew she wasn’t supposed to pick a favorite, and it would kill Stiles’ fresh self-esteem if he ever found out. But she couldn’t make herself feel guilty. After all, Erica’s favorite was clearly Stiles, even if the woman never said it. They were a fucked up trio, but what else would you expect from three happy murderers?


End file.
